


Your Heart's a Vine (That I Bled Trying to Climb)

by StarlitKingdom



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon compliant blood tasting, Character Study, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Hanahaki Disease, He might be alive he might be dead, It's vague and up for the reader to decide, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Schrodinger's Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, cw blood, cw suicide, feelings are hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitKingdom/pseuds/StarlitKingdom
Summary: Once upon a time, Gavin supposed he liked flowers.





	1. Try to Survive (Keep My Spirit Alive)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that he trusts you and I know that he loves you  
> But somehow you convinced me again  
> My foundation rumbles and all my morals crumble  
> My father's warnings run through my head  
> The Good in Me - Jon Bellion

Once upon a time, Gavin supposed he liked flowers.

 

Growing up in inner city Detroit before the city was cleaned up, it made flowers a rare commodity. Richer sides of town that had flowerboxes and gardens and fucking  _ gardeners _ \-- outside of little dandelions that grew out of the cracks in a sidewalk. He liked those most, the ones that grew despite adversity. The eternal Fuck You to a world that didn’t want them to grow. Watch them grow, until they turned into a little seed puff and drifted away.

 

Flowers became rarer as he grew, shipped out to the academy to chase after dreams of working in law enforcement. Detroit had been different when he moved back in, nestled into starting a new job after graduation. Cyberlife began purring sweet promises of assistance and help for great amounts of cash, began the slippery moral decline that made Gavin’s skin crawl of building sentient machines to accommodate, replace people. A shithole apartment complex, where he scored a nice gig on the first floor for a bad paycheque. Flowers were more common--bright bunches on plants and trees in richer neighborhoods, even the poorer ones still had the odd bunch here or there. His own complex had a few badly-maintained boxes.

 

No one looked at loose petals on the ground, however. It was some unspoken taboo to comment on them. Hanahaki wasn’t something so easily discussed, or talked about. It fell into the niche category that AIDS and HIV did--that happened to other people. Smile, laugh. Pretend it’s a problem for someone else. As long as the petals weren’t splattered with blood, everything was Good.

 

One of his first cases that he wraps up neatly--granted, it had ended in a shootout. Gavin had saved officers’ lives, had made a clean shot to down the shooter (he’d been a sharpshooter in the academy). Later that night, he’d been attacked in his sleep by a jacked up android belonging to the man. Two months in the hospital and another after that, all of his meager belongings are moved to the top floor of another shithole apartment. The settlement money from Cyberlife makes the bills easier, but not the phantoms in his mind. Seeing an LED in the dark continues to haunt his dreams, and even in the waking world, the sight makes his blood freeze. He begins to adapt to more caffeine and less sleep.

 

Then.. things went to shit, and seemed to be on the up and up. Six days for the world to suddenly get flipped on its head. Androids suddenly in talks about gaining their freedom and independence. With so many deviants running around, it makes Gavin’s skin crawl, makes years-old injuries twinge like the Chloe that attacked him might rise from the dead to finish what she started. 

 

Until…  _ It _ was introduced as his partner. 

 

RK900. 

 

There was some seedy part in Gavin’s brain that wanted to lord the superiority of his android partner to Lt. Anderson. Newest model, et cetera, et cetera… That tiny, scheming part was railroaded as he near screams himself  _ hoarse _ in Fowler’s office, and sneered at the disciplinary papers he earned for it. Public approval of better android integration apparently mattered more than the incident that nearly killed him, and it’s a dark mark on the start of the partnership.

 

Someone up there had a fucking terrible sense of humor.

 

He’d refused to call  _ it _ by a serial number. RK900 was a mouthful, and he wants to make the disconnection in his own brain that this was another android that could kill him. He’d seen how ruthless it could be in combat, it’s another nightmare that nestles into his collection of nighttime theatre. That ruthlessness, it’s low cadence of speaking--Gavin starts calling RK900 as HAL9000. The irony is heavy, even as it gets shortened to Hal. Even as there’s something odd in his heart about warming to the knowledge he gave  _ him _ that nickname, that name.

 

Stilted conversations turn a bit easier when Gavin stops being.. quite so guarded around Hal. Barked orders don’t quite get the same politeness anyone else might expect, but they stop being so severe. It’s still surprising when Hal brings up nutritional stats and advisements--Christ, it made him  _ laugh _ for the first time in who knows how long. Mouths off about getting a multitool for a toaster partner. Had vaguely threatened Hal with a plastic butterknife about not scanning him again,  _ thanks _ . Inside, he’s.. almost touched that someone gave a shit enough about his health to say anything.

 

He’d taken Hal to the shooting range on an off day. His aim is mostly the same, sometimes sleep deprivation makes his hand waver a tad -- but the near precision accuracy is still there. Gavin actually encouraged Hal to step up and unload a clip; nearly  _ teasing _ about wanting to make sure his can opener isn’t getting dull on him. For the first time, what looked like cold precision looked more like hypertuned focus. Eight bullets make six holes, and Gavin is damn impressed.

 

A coughing fit hits him when he went to scrub his hands after taking a piss. The tiny, soft purple flower in the palm of his hand makes him freeze, watching with morbid fascination as the water on his hands dilutes the specks of blood sway and drift down to run off his hand and into the sink. Anger surged, crushing the bloom between his fingers and letting it rush away with a spray of water.

 

Someone up there had an abso- _ fucking _ -lutely terrible sense of humor, and he’d knife fight them whenever he met them. 

 

Apparently sooner rather than later, if these blooms had any say in the matter.

 

He flips Hal off as he walks out of the bathroom, hoping the water splashed on his face makes him look less pale than he had been. It apparently works, as they head off for Gavin to find some kind of greasy ass food--if just to hear Hal fuss. It tasted like ash, but better than earthy petals and blood. 

 

Weeks go by, and it doesn’t lessen. Hell, it gets harder and harder to hide. 

Especially from Hal.

 

It’s a steady coming to terms that there’s bitter fucking irony in Gavin having feelings for Hal. He doesn’t think the L- word anymore, the first and only time he did, he’d ripped almost a whole  _ branch  _ of lilacs out of his throat. It’s a mental block that he puts up, refuses to acknowledge anymore. Just the concept has his throat getting scratchy, and it’s all he can do to smother it down with a sip of coffee. 

 

The large, metaphorical clock over his head is ticking, ticking, ticking… It won’t be long. 

 

Gavin stares at Hal over the rim of his cup, knees holding him up and balanced on his chair’s back legs. The android in question is having some discussion with Connor at his desk, too far for Gavin to properly hear anything besides watching the tweaks of sternness creep over Hal’s features. The way his eyebrows twitch, the corners of his mouth frowning. His gaze trailed down the rounded chisel of Hal’s jaw, to the sliver of neck that the higher collar of the white jacket allowed him to see from his seat. Even in his limited run flings, Gavin always had a thing for sinking his teeth in--

 

The scratchiness bloomed in his throat, and suddenly Gavin can’t fucking  _ breathe _ .

 

His rough landing on his chair is blissfully muted by Fowler calling in Connor and Hank about some newly reported case, and Gavin slinks off to the restroom with more grace than an asphyxiating man likely should have. The corners of his gaze are starting to dim and darken, and it’s all he can do to not slam the door open. The stall door isn’t even closed behind him before he’s reaching into his mouth to  _ rip _ and  _ pull _ , plumes of red-stained lilac flowers and long-stemmed branches. The wide leaves are the part he hates the most, sticking to his throat and gliding over muscles as he pulls branch after branch free, trying desperately to trigger his gag reflex. 

 

The first breath of air is a damned Godsend, and Gavin sucks in breath after breath greedily, unaware when he sank to his knees in front of the toilet. His vision brightens up, feeling like he can’t quite grasp the world around him. It takes a few moments, testing his limbs, making sure he is okay to stand. Thankfully the broken pieces of his flowerstems crush easily, and with some toilet paper, he can easily flush the evidence away.

 

This one had been too close.

 

There had been an idle hope that he could at least make it a few more weeks. Any moment of time had been growing increasingly precious. Damn, Gavin wasn’t a sentimental man, but he wasn’t in any hurry to go, exactly..

 

Exiting the restroom, it was blissfully empty back in the main room. Connor and Hank were gone. Hal was.. oddly nowhere to be seen. Fuck his body for the sadness that flooded into his system, fuck this disease creeping into his bloodstream and killing him for having goddamn  _ feelings _ .

 

When he’d realized a few weeks back that he was starting to slip faster, Gavin had put in a request for some time off on indeterminate grounds. Some handwave about a sibling preparing for their first kid to pop, and Fowler certainly knew how the first ones were never predictable, et cetera, et cetera… Something so thinly staged, he didn’t think it would fly under the radar. Yet Fowler had been mercilessly benevolent, had  _ smiled _ at him and whenever he knew things would happen, permission granted.

 

Of course, all his attempts for years to work his way up the ladder, and when he’s dying, things are going to go his way.

 

Of. Fucking. Course.

 

Fowler had no issues with him popping in, sideways grin in place even if his lungs hurt, even if Gavin wants to scream--chirping about a sister in Baltimore that was going to be induced in the morning, and needed his few days off. He’d been waved off with a blessing, Fowler not even looking up from his paperwork. Good, the less that saw through his walk to the executioner’s deck, the easier it would be. Which only left..

 

Hal was watching him from Gavin’s desk, standing by the chair which he’d been unknowingly stared at from. His LED was a calm blue, taking in Gavin’s appearance. The briefest moments, Gavin cursed having not looked to see if blood had spattered over his clothes. He wants this to be good. Shit, that’s an odd thought. But this would be the last time that Gavin would see Hal, and he can’t quite help but memorize the face of the android subtly killing him.

 

… Shit, good thing no one knew. That headline would be fucking hilarious, after all Markus had done for androids.

 

_ Detective Killed by Hanahaki for Falling for an Android _ .

 

“You are.. going on leave of absence?” Hal’s head tips slightly, curious. The blue LED switches to a rapid yellow. It was just a leave of absence, nothing about  _ why _ . 

 

“Yeah - c’mon, can opener, don’t say you’ll miss me.” Gavin’s grin is trying to convince Hal, but also himself. Maybe he’ll finally pull out the roots, be free from Hanahaki. But there’s no known cure. Apart from the actual impossibility a non-deviated android loved him, ha. Ha ha. Ha…..

 

He’s doomed to die.

 

“Are you in ill health?” The yellow whirls faster, and Gavin all but throws the first thing he can grab -- a sticky note pad -- from his desk at him.

 

“What’d I fucking say about scanning me? Plastic prick..” Gavin grunts, turning away to sign out of his desktop. “It’s just a few days for my head. Haven’t taken a damn break since, well.” All that shit in November. “Few days will do my head good. Get away, let me think clearly. I’ll be back before you know it, insulting you.” He can manage a grin, kicking his chair into place. “You gotta stay  _ here _ and make sure nothing goes to shit while I’m gone.”

 

But Hal’s watching him with that near unreadable expression, just the slightest tick between the eyebrows. Grey eyes are near stormy, looking him over to the point where Gavin wonders both if Hal had scanned him anyway-- or if something else was giving away his harried state. But the android just nods slightly, stepping away. “I hope you enjoy your vacation, detective.”

 

Something in him snaps slightly. Fuck it, if this is his last hurrah, let him be selfish. “Gavin.”

 

Hal doesn’t even blink, head just tilting once more. “I am aware of your name.”

 

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while.” He can’t quite help the sneer. It’s pot calling kettle--when he doesn’t quite say Hal’s name over any varying electronic instead.

 

Yet, Hal does something that actually surprises Gavin--he  _ smiles _ . “Of course, Gavin. Do have a restful leave of absence. I look forward to your return.”

 

It stops Gavin dead in his train of thought, even the sneer slips off his face. All he can do is nod in return, a tad dumb. “Y-yeah, I’ll.. get a lot of rest.” Wasn’t that the fucking truth. But seeing Hal smile at him like that makes his throat tighten, makes his heart flutter and lungs utterly ache. Gavin’s taking a few steps towards the door, before doubling back--grabbing the android by the upper arm briefly. It’s hard to look into those grey eyes and not want to cough a lung out. “Be.. Be good, Hal.”

 

“Of course, Gavin.” There’s a slight pause. “See you in a few days?”

 

Gavin nods, but can’t look at Hal’s direction any longer, turning back towards the door to leave. “Yeah, see you soon.”

 

He spits out a mouthful of bloody lilacs as he throws himself into the car, hating how his eyes sting, and in a few moments, speeds away from the building.

 

It had been a quicker trip home. Gavin had stopped through a drive thru, picking the greasiest, saltiest thing he could find on a quick glance through the menu. A last meal of sorts. But it suddenly felt.. Empty. Everything tasted of ash in his mouth, knowing what he was facing down. It wasn’t quite the same as rolling through with Hal in tow, talking about how every option was grossly over daily nutritional value. So a few bites into the sandwich, he ends up throwing it back into the bag and tossing it out in the parking lot to his shitty apartment complex. 

 

Four full flight flights of stairs later, and he’s unlocking the door to his apartment. Utterly empty now, in some inane prep to this fucking terrible moment. It was almost a shitty blessing he’d never gotten around to getting a pet. There was no more thinly veiled lies to build on anymore. Just gone through his things, had emptied his apartment past when he’d moved into this building. Made donations to shelters late at night so no one saw him. The fridge is almost empty, yet he still has a few bottles of beer--some smokes on the table.

 

He changes into loose clothes, gritting his teeth as he tries to not consider how he’ll look when he’s inevitably found as a stiff. Would it be a neighbor, investigating the smell? Someone from the department sent when he didn’t answer his phone? Some green officer? The grizzled lieutenant and his pet former deviant hunter? 

 

.. Hal?

 

The thought has him choking and sputtering on smoke and blood and petals, slamming his fist against his chest to loosen the blooming cluster before spitting it out. Good god, Hal finding him… Except Gavin just laughs, low and miserable. Hal didn’t give a shit about him besides as a partner. He hadn’t even  _ deviated _ , for fuck’s sake.

 

Running a hand over his face, nails scratching at the scruff that had grown in on his jawline, Gavin took a swig and sat gracelessly on the couch. Misery seeped in as he rubbed his throat, sore and aching from so much abuse that hanahaki ran. 

 

In the months leading up to this, Gavin had tried to do some research on the side. There had been something that caught his eye, Acceptance. Something he found more rooted in morbid romanticism writings than science journals. But with how Gavin had progressed to a stage where even his thoughts could trigger an attack, it wouldn’t be hard to sink into the bliss of relief, would it..? What would it do him, to stagger out out and take the slow approach anymore than he had been?

 

It isn’t until his beer is gone, and his cigarette is down to the filter that he allows his mind to wander to Hal. 

 

Gavin supposes that it’s the most fucking bitter irony that he fell in love with Hal. Despite the savage way he’d all but demanded of Fowler to switch things around, to “put that tin can with anyone else” if his fuzzy memory served right. How the android was unwaveringly  _ there _ despite his nasty attitude and words, even if Hal had been as much a cold asshole as Gavin had been. Yet his mind drifted sometimes, to the ridges of Hal’s jawline, to how firm the android’s grip was whenever they touched. Hal’s sense of dry humor had been a shock, even if it was brief between moments. A good partner, good for  _ him _ , even if he was remorse to admit. Yet it’s all he can do to wonder if Hal had ever deviated--wondered if he might want a scumbag like Gavin who’d sooner insult the android and  _ then _ kiss him.

 

It’s a hazy feeling, feeling the full bloom in his throat that he doesn’t quite want to remove. He’s so fucking  _ tired _ , after all. It’s been months of fighting this damn disease, of drowning in a bottle at night and sweeping up dried flowers in the morning. Lilacs are creeping up his throat, pushing past his teeth, his lips--the bloodied blooms fall into his lap. The branches forcing their way out seem to hurt like they haven’t in the past--and despite almost getting killed, taking several bullets on the job, plus numerous other wounds from varying forces--Gavin’s eyes prick, tears almost fall. 

 

He could rest easy. It was almost over.

 

Did… did he really want to go out like this, however? Like a whimper, when everything he strode for in life was for the bang? Time was ticking down, but he had a few days left in him. Christ, he’d left Hal with the shittiest way possible--and never knowing just how he felt.

 

Panic bubbled up in his chest, a desperate thought that Gavin clung to--

 

_ I’m not ready to die. _

 

His fingers suddenly spring into action, ripping and pulling as his body heaved forward to get his head down by his knees. Gravity might help pull the petals free, help them slide easier. But the branches keep coming, fistful after fistful of soft violet lilacs free. He tries to cough, but having no air to help push the blockage free just leaves his chest aching even more. Gavin tried to stagger to his feet, but weakness had his knees giving out, and he collapses onto the ground. Weakly crawling to try to get somewhere,  _ anywhere _ that might be able to help him. His phone, the hallway, anything….

 

But the darkness is all consuming. All that he fought for, all that he refused to die for and stubbornly live.

 

Gavin collapses onto his side, the last thing he sees before the darkness closing in is lilac and white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, lilac Lilacs mean First Love.  
>   
>   
>    
> . . .  
>  ~~Does anyone want more?~~  
>  I haven't written fanfiction in almost ten years, but since you lovely people would like more--why not.


	2. Yeah, you make me forget who I am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humanity was oddly fragile--it had a penchant for being drawn to equally or even more so fragilities in the world.  
> Hal found it all rather odd, rather puzzling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One temptation sparked this  
> Now I can feel the darkness  
> It's my own fault but you had this planned  
> All of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns  
> Yeah, you make me forget who I am
> 
> The Good In Me - Jon Bellion

Humanity was oddly fragile--it had a penchant for being drawn to equally or even more so fragilities in the world.

Hal found it all rather odd, rather puzzling.

Humans likened themselves to the strongest material in the world--iron, titanium, steel. Yet their bodies are made of a range of 45-65% water, and a constitution to be unable to take a punch, let alone stand against a collision or bullet like some metals can. Made buildings stories-upon-stories tall, made of the strongest metals to withstand weather, erosion, and attacks. Yet they decorate it with such fragilities like bushes, like flowers. Organic matter that gets ruined in the winter, and sometimes grows back in the spring.

Flowers, no doubt, were the oddest thing. They were necessary for pollinating other flowers. In other areas, bees were kept for honey and wax--another important notion for keeping flowers around. Perhaps the flowers planted outside the Detroit Police Department are more for the first reason. But they’re more decorative little flowers than serving any sort of purpose. They serve no beekeeping fulfillment, certainly not here. Little daisy bushes around the base of young Juneberry trees that had just begun to bloom in a blaze of yellow and white.

What other purpose could they serve?

Aesthetics, perhaps.

Humans were drawn to the softness in things. A baby’s frail form, or the silk of a petal. Oddly frail, oddly.. beautiful. There was certainly beauty to be found, even if Hal wasn’t certain if he found himself finding them, or if it was a written construct.

What he does know is that he finds himself looking forward to seeing their progression each time he returns to the police department from Cyberlife every morning. His visits start in the winter, when there’s still snow on the ground. At that point, he hadn’t even known there were flowers to be had--only snow clinging to the skeleton form of trees without leaves.

It was then he had met Detective Gavin Reed. Their meeting hadn’t well in any sort of angle or synonym--Gavin had screamed himself hoarse in Captain Fowler’s office as he had waited by Detective Reed’s office. Hal hadn’t even been _Hal_ at that point, he’d been RK900--sent to the DPD as a means to test the latest prototype they’d already had in the works by a demure Cyberlife, scrambling to make any kind of good PR move in the vacuuming wake of the revolution. Gavin had all but stormed to his desk, mid-sneer when he’d gotten close enough to not be yelling across the room--certainly not when Fowler’s eyes had followed Gavin’s retreating form.

“The fuck you looking at, you plastic toaster?” Papers were thrown down--disciplinary papers--but they’d all but been forgotten as soon as they landed.

Grey eyes met grey, and he’d attempted his best smile. “I understand we are to be working together to improve Human-Android relations, Detective Reed,” Gavin’s disgusted grunt and running a hand over his face did little to stall his conversation, “But I hope we might find common ground in working together. 

Gavin stared at him, the corner of his mouth twitching a bit incredulously. “ ‘Common ground’, huh? How about you find common ground in getting me a coffee, dipshit?”

\-----Hal _had_ fetched Gavin coffee, but in hopes to improve a better starting point with his newly acquainted partner.

It’s like this for weeks, coming in to endure Gavin’s mouth and foul attitude regarding him, regarding androids. It’s tiring, certainly. He is tasked with nothing short of monumental importance. Not only is he skating on thin ice of tenuous thin ice after the last stand Markus had been willing to stand for--Gavin seemed certainly unwilling to even meet him halfway. Yet he finds himself looking at Lt. Anderson and the RK800 Connor more and more. Their camaraderie, their.. Friendship, perhaps. It’s a confusing feeling, looking at their closeness and hoping that time might thaw the ice around his own designated partner.

But the weeks begin to tick by, and soon enough even winter let go of Detroit. The snow on the ground begins to warm and melt, and soon little blades of grass begin to poke out of cracks in the sidewalk. The day he sees the larger buds between the juneberry trees, the sign of life beyond small blades of grass, is the day he accidentally spooked Gavin. They’d been chasing down a suspect wanted for assault. Hal had tackled the man to the ground after chucking a brick at the back of his knee--incapacitating the man quickly and efficiently.

While he never expected to garner a compliment out of Gavin (while something hoped to capture the man’s attention besides blatant ire), the side eye he gets after taking the suspect down isn’t hatred--nor is it anything remotely good. “Alright, robocop. Chill.”

“My name isn’t--”

“Yeah, _yeah_ \--” Handcuffs on the suspect, Gavin had hauled them to their feet and shoved him towards his car. “But I can’t call you RK900. It’s too fucking robotic--and I _ain’t_ calling you Connor. Bad enough we got one of them already, and even more fucking weird you kinda look the same.” The mere thought made the man’s nose wrinkle. He’d shoved the man in his backseat, slamming the door shut before he sat down heavily in the driver’s seat. RK900 had sat down, gently, in the passenger’s seat.

It’s a good portion into their drive back to the station before Gavin pipes up, “Hal.”

“Excuse me?”

At a red light, Gavin looked over at him. Grey eyes glancing over his face, judging slightly. “Hal -- you know, HAL9000? From _2001:Space Oddity_?” His grin is a bit proud at having come up with that himself. “Cos you’re 900. And you talk like a robotic dick.”

“If you’d prefer, detective.” Yet Hal’s LED had whirled a bit yellow, and the corner of his lip twitched a bit into a smile. 

Hal liked the name, liked that Gavin had opened up enough to give him his own identifying name--even if the reasonings were a bit childish. He’d even corrected when any other usage of his model number was used. Connor’s surprise was nice, Gavin’s giddy grin around his coffee cup had been even better. Since that moment, things had become.. Not particularly good, but easier. Gavin’s digs lessened in intensity, and it became easier to converse without much worry of a negative reaction.

When they stopped for a burger, Hal had finally stopped eyeing the burger in caloric disgust and told Gavin how utterly _unhealthy_ that thing was. Dripping in thousands of calories and sodium. He already had picked up that Gavin’s sleep habits were not up to what was needed for a regular night’s sleep, and to add an indulgent diet on top of that? The detective’s health would only degrade with time.

Gavin’s deep _laughter_ hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected. Far from it, in fact. The man grinned, scrubbing his chin with a napkin. He’d waved a plastic butter knife at him, vaguely threatening to shank him if he scanned Gavin again without his permission. Half-assed taunts about having a multitool. These are all things Hal’s learned to not take to heart, but the sight of Gavin laughing, so deep and full, was a sight Hal committed to memory. He’d rather hoped he’d be able to make the usually angry, arrogant man to laugh like that again.

Things become easier between them, almost to a point where Hal begins to look forward to coming into work every morning--and not just for the progress on the blooms beginning to bud and open. He finds himself less and less jealous of Hank and Connor’s relationship, and finds the one he’s been establishing with Gavin to be different--but his own.

Closeness that bleeds into a hint of deviancy when they’re out at a range on a day off. Gavin was dressed down, though he usually wore items of comfort. He’d even ribbed Hal when he’d been picked up about trying on any different clothes, besides the ones issued by CyberLife. It wasn’t something Hal considered--he wore what he was instructed to. But having a gun pressed into his hands, being jabbed about making sure his aim was still sharp, edged something in him. He’d taken aim, shot with deadly accuracy.

The impressed look floods him with so much warmth that Hal runs diagnostics while Gavin’s in the restroom.

As weeks had toiled on, Hal had found he reacted rather.. oddly whenever Gavin gave the slightest bit of positive attention. The impressed look, odd smile, rare laugh -- they all warmed his core, made Hal smile more and more. It had even caught Gavin’s attention, waving his hand curled around a coveted cup of coffee from a gas station around Hal’s face that his smiles were getting bigger. It was an odd notion, but accurate. Were they connected with his floods of warmth? Fluttering responses?

Gavin had returned from the restroom and flipped him off--nothing unusual.

Hal’s too lost in his own musings to notice how pale Gavin had looked.

Instability seems to take hold of Hal’s thoughts. It doesn’t stop him from doing his job; in fact, Hal rather greedily accepts any distraction that he can get from what seems to be gearing up to the inevitable. While Markus fights for the rights of androids, doesn’t mean he necessarily wants to face deviancy himself. Hal does his job, makes sure Gavin stays safe and alive, and returns back to CyberLife.

The petals on the juneberry tree are shedding, replaced by leafy greens when things go to hell.

He’s deep in conversation with Connor about the status of Markus’ talks--and some part of him is in awe of Connor’s hand in the start of the revolution--when the other android paused mid-sentence. Hal’s eyebrows crease if slightly--until he sees Connor look out of the corner of his eye.

“Gavin is watching you.”

Something pleased rises up in Hal, and the smile comes unbidden. “Is he?” It’s a brief pause, the odd warmth in his chest returns--before he adds, “I suppose it’s normal for partners to check on each other’s statuses, is it not?”

But the look Connor levels him isn’t quite what he expected. Smiling, yet there’s sympathy behind it. Almost.. sad. “How long have you had feelings for Detective Reed?”

Several things happen at once--Hank openly chokes on the coffee he’d been drinking, causing Connor to half start out of his chair to make sure the man was okay. Fowler’s booming voice called the pair in, details of a new case coming in he wanted to brief the pair on.

Hal’s quiet “...what?” had unnoticed by all.

Him? He couldn’t be… He couldn’t be in love with Gavin. Hal wasn’t even a _deviant_.

Yet all he can do is stand in near shock as the question sank in. Was that the missing piece he’d been searching for? Surely Gavin had been on his mind more than usual, and the odd physical feelings that no amount of diagnostics could find the source of. Wisest course of action would be to talk about these supposed feelings. But this was Gavin after all, who spouted about hating androids _still_ , even if there was a begrudging acceptance when it came to Hal. The times when he’d earned Gavin’s respect, however--times when he made the detective laugh. It warms his core to a point that he’s sure his face might actually show it. His LED flickered between yellow and red, wildly shifting and blinking that’s only interrupted by a door opening.

Hal turned, seeing Gavin leaving the restroom to dip into Lt. Fowler’s office to speak to the man, and for a moment Hal briefly wondered if his thirium pump regular was malfunctioning at seeing the detective, his heart was fluttering and --

… … … _Oh_.

Perhaps.. Perhaps Connor knew exactly what he’d been talking about. Hal had just needed to have someone finally point it out.

It’s a skill of discipline that when Gavin exits Fowler’s office, Hal has regained his composure. His LED is a mostly steady blue as he watches his partner approach him, however something looks.. Off. While it hadn’t looked like there had been a disagreement in the office, something definitely looks off about the human. Bothered, distracted. Hal’s been prevented from scanning Gavin, but that doesn’t mean he can’t look up _about_ him. It’s a quick search--a welcome distraction, at this point--in the database for Gavin, and he came up with.. a leave of absence document?

“You are.. going on a leave of absence?” His head falls to the side naturally, curious. Why had Gavin not mentioned anything?

However, Gavin just gave a grin, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah - c’mon, can opener, don’t say you’ll miss me.” It actually makes that seed of worry suddenly take root. He looks over the man in question, how he fidgeted, how his clothes looked a bit looser on him. “Are you in ill health?” He’d been told to never scan him again, and yet..

Perhaps the pad of sticky notes bouncing off his forehead was earned.

“What’d I say about fucking scanning me? Plastic prick..” Hal’s fingers fidget as he watches Gavin tidy up his desk. There’s a strong urge to do _something_ , anything to aid Gavin. It’s mildly frustrating that he won’t say what’s going on, but yet act so casual. “Few days will do my head good. Get away, let me think clearly. I’ll be back before you know it, insulting you.” The sight of that grin has his systems fluttering once more, and Hal has to force himself to not stare at Gavin’s mouth. His lips were oddly pale, a tinge blue… “You gotta stay _here_ and make sure nothing goes to shit while I’m gone.”

It’s a heavy weight on his already turbulent thoughts -- Gavin was _ordering_ him. Hal is meant to be the perfect machine, or was, before Markus started a revolution. For the first time, Hal doesn’t want to obey. Something was going on with Gavin, even if the detective didn’t want to talk. It’s with great reluctance that he finally nods--slowly, almost resigned. “I hope you enjoy your vacation, detective.”

“Gavin.” The man almost looks annoyed once more, and Hal can’t help but wonder where he irritated his partner once more.

“I am aware of your name.” He knows it better than his own, knew it before his own. That single name was becoming the central part of his thoughts lately, of what the man was doing, was he okay, trying to coax a positive response. Gavin, Gavin, _Gavin_ …

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while.” The sneer isn’t unexpected, but the small permission is still nice to hear.

Hal can’t help but _smile_. Not the curt ones he’s worked on for talking to people on a more professional level. But a wide smile--the one that’s grown over time as he’s allowed himself to grow increasingly fond of Gavin Reed. “Of course, Gavin. Do have a restful leave of absence. I look forward to your return.” And oh how he does. Perhaps a few days would give Hal room to find his own words for his partner.

But the man’s sneer slips off, all traces of aggression gone in an instant. “Y-yeah, I’ll.. get a lot of rest.” The worry floods Hal once again in an instant. While Gavin’s speech had its own impediments, stammering wasn’t quite a normal one. “Be.. Be good, Hal.”

If the worry was a flood before, it was a dam bursting now.

“Of course, Gavin.” His gaze flickers over his face, wanting to find some secret to Gavin’s avoidance that wouldn’t come. “See you in a few days?” It’s a question, a nervous branch to help try to settle the nervous jitters.

But all Gavin does is nod without looking at him, calling behind him, “Yeah, see you soon.” All Hal can do is watch the man leave.

It isn’t until the familiar tires screech away that Hal finally moves from the spot he’s been metaphorically rooted to. Something isn’t right. He can sense it. But a rooting through Gavin’s desk while everyone is gone proves fruitless. The trash is empty. Gaining access to the computer wasn’t hard, and hadn’t been a few months ago when he’d begun idly guessing Gavin’s password. But unfortunately the man had a valid habit of deleting his cookies and browser history after having grown up in an era where identity theft had been rampant. He tries to calculate where else he could possibly look as the terminal shuts down once more.

Hadn’t Gavin left in a hurry for the restroom?

LED whirling a quick yellow, he retraces the steps to the restroom. It’s white on white on white -- the color of a sterile environment. Yet he gazes around, analyzes the room for any trace of evidence. Something, _anything_ , to explain the worried feeling somewhere in his chest, in his processes. Something was off. He’d _find_ it.

Gavin’s handprint on the door stick out most to him--blurred and smudged across the off-white surface. Odd enough by itself. Was the detective in a rush? Humans using these facilities could sometimes wait until the last moment to use them. But his curiosity, his ramping worry for Gavin’s well-being had him gently pushing the door open. The porcelain toilet within was clean; wiped clean, for he could see the smear marks. His eyes dart around, trying to find something, _anything_ , that might give a clue, when--

A droplet of blood, tiny, trying to dry on the stall wall.

Hal swept the little red drop up, running it across the flat of his tongue. His LED flickers and shimmers yellow, casting a slight glow against the whites of the restroom stall. An analysis showed that it was indeed Detective Gavin Reed’s blood, but the surprise was that there was trace amounts of his saliva in the mixture as well. So he had spat the blood out, for the lack of any bile reduced vomiting out of the equation. There was something wrong with Gavin, to the point of causing blood.

The document comes to mind once more, and Hal digs through to find it in the database. The listed reason being a need to see a sister in Baltimore. Gavin had told him on innumerable occasions not to scan him, not to dig into his personal business. Yet with the growing evidence starting to stack against the warnings, and Hal finally feels the need to dig. Yet, there was no evidence of a sister in Gavin’s local family--only a brother. One whom held no marriage license to a woman, and had no indication of being in some medical peril to needing time to be cared for.

Something was off.

Standing, the android makes his way out of the restroom, ignoring the odd looks of the officers he passes. He bypasses Gavin’s desk, skirting out past the exit to the street. Yet something catches his eye--purple and red against the white snow and grey of concrete. A lilac? Yes, a small bunch of lilac flowers--with dark crimson frozen dry on the soft petals. He runs a light scan and sure enough, a match to the blood he’d found on the wall. Flowers, blood, and saliva. Had the lilacs been in Gavin’s mouth?

The search of these terms gives Hal great pause; Hanahaki.

The unrequited love killer.

Gavin was in love? Never had the man said much, for they spent all their time together. If someone was that important to Gavin, surely their friendship was to a point where Hal could be told and trusted with this information. Had the months together not proven that Hal had simply wanted to be by Gavin’s side? It’s a start that the horror sets in; more importantly, it was _killing_ him. Killing Gavin. Things began to click into place for Hal, and the thought sends him reeling, feeling his thirium pump near stop as he finally can put things together; an unspecified leave of absence for a sister he did not have, with a disease that was a known, vicious killer. The thought of his human keeping this slinking secret of an unknown person to himself only to plan some secret plot to die alone makes his pump feel as if the device was malfunctioning--like it might shatter in his chest. The detective was dying. Gavin was _dying_ \--

Hal had never told him how he _felt_.

The wall flares a bright red as Hal turns to the direction Gavin’s car has always sped off to, where the detective lives. The order is clear. Gavin had wanted him to stay. But how can he stay, knowing the human that was in his care, that Hal felt something besides a tentative friendship with, had gone to curl up somewhere and die alone? Deviancy was something so commonplace now, yet he had never faced his wall--by choice. But his programming tenses with anxiety, with anger as he faces the wall.

He raises a hand, the flat of his palm pressing against it--before it curled into a fist and _slammed_ the side of his fist against the surface. The wall cracks slightly, yet Hal doesn’t see it. Instead, his other hand curls into a ball and strikes the wall with his knuckles. Another strike with his hand, before Hal throws the weight of his program into the wall--and he breaks through. Shards of red fall around Hal’s vision as he physically staggers a step, two. Grey blue eyes cast around, seeing the same location on the street with what seems like a new set of eyes, before the ache in his thirium pump revives him. The lilac bunch is still in his hand, the breeze playing with the blood stained flowers before it slips from his hand.

Gavin. 

Chest aching, Hal hails a self-driving cab before sliding into the seat. With a grimace, he leans forward to connect his hand to the dashboard as his skin slips away. Connected with the device, he urges the car to hasten it’s path as it speeds through traffic.

All he can do is pray he can get there in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long, got too long, so-- 3 chapters, whoops.


End file.
